Options
by kelmeister
Summary: Immediately post-ep for 5x06, "Final Frontier." One-shot. "Do you want more kids?" "I'd like the option."


DISCLAIMER: Everything here is mine, except everyone in it.

xxxxxx

They made it through about forty-five minutes of the first episode in Kate's _Nebula 9_ marathon before he reneged on his promise. But it was all her fault: though the Creaver mask she'd worn had been thrown off, lost to some dark corner of the apartment, she'd left on the uniform. He couldn't help it that the short skirt gave him easy access. His only option was to throw propriety and his end of the bargain to the wind, hike the skirt up over that beautiful peach of an ass and take her right there on the couch while Captain Rennard and Lieutenant Chloe argued about hailing an alien vessel in the background. Engage, indeed.

Now both divested of all clothing, they're snuggled together under a heavy throw. Rick holds Kate in his arms, slowly drawing circles on her bare shoulder, vacantly staring at the moving patterns of episode three on the screen, sound muted. Kate hasn't moved in a while. He suspects she's falling asleep—her fingers have long ago given up twirling through the sparse hair on his chest—but every so often her eyelashes flutter against the skin covering his collar bone, alerting him that she's still with him. He wonders what she's thinking about, wonders if he should disturb her by asking. Wonders why after all the late nights and long talks and great sex he still fears asking. Her soft sigh gives him courage.

"Hey, Beckett," he whispers. His hand stills.

"Hmm?"

"Whaddaya thinking about?"

Rick feels a strong puff of exasperated air tickle his chest and smiles. He's got her.

"Nothing."

"Come on, you can tell me."

"It's nothing." He feels her shift against him, ever so slightly pulling away. He resists, pulls her in closer.

"You're thinking about me bald."

Another hot puff of air. "No."

"You are." He feigns hurt. "You're imagining how ugly I would be."

A chuckle. "No."

"I would still love you if you were bald." He punctuates his certainty by moving his hand from her shoulder to run his fingers through her hair.

"I'll not dignify that with a response."

Now it's his turn to chuckle. "Seriously, Beckett. Anything on your mind?"

There is a long pause. He continues combing her hair, careful not to tug the tangles that catch on his knuckles. He remembers when he first met her, her hair so short, severe like she was (_oh, how I underestimated her_). Now, the long caramel waves so different, so free (_oh, how little I knew_).

"Do you really want more kids?"

His breath catches. His hand stops. _This is it,_ he thinks. _That feeling like your stomach has dropped to your feet. I've written about it. Now I know what it really feels like._ Rick coughs, tries to think, _Do I lie? Do I parse it? Oh, hell._

"I don't know," he finally says. "I mean, I guess I assumed I would, but that didn't really work out like I thought, I mean, Meredith had her own life, and Gina didn't want kids, I mean, she tried with Alexis, but I sabotaged her at every turn..." He's rambling. He realizes he's scared. Anything that comes out of his mouth could be wrong. If he says yes, he might scare her off. If he says no, he might scare her off. What's the right answer? What does she want? He feels a creeping horror that he's never considered whether she might want kids. He struggles to remember a time when he looked upon her as a potential mother figure, and comes up blank. God, he's an idiot _and_ an asshole.

Rick sighs. He reaches down, picks up one of her hands in his, studies her delicate fingers as he steadies his thoughts. He defaults to the truth. "It's funny," he says, "it's one of those things you take for granted, like sunlight, or New Coke. You assume it'll always be there for you, and then one morning you wake up and you're old, and the sun's burned away to nothing and they discontinued New Coke."

The fingers of Kate's other hand thread through his chest hair, lightly spurring him on. "The opportunity never presented itself," he bemoans. "And now Alexis is grown and I'm alone. And I miss her." His words catch in his throat. Speaking this truth out loud...he's choking. "Sometimes I think, what if I had another baby? And then I hate myself because I feel like I'm trying to replace Alexis."

"It's natural to feel that way."

"It still feels wrong."

"It was just the two of you for a very long time. Of course you feel like you're losing a part of yourself."

"I used to wake her up early on snow days to feed her ice cream for breakfast." Rick laughs at the memory. "Even at an early age, she'd admonish me. At first, it was, 'Dad, it's cold outside, we can't eat cold things when it's cold outside!' But as she got older...as the schools got hold of her, ice cream suddenly wasn't a healthy breakfast choice."

Kate gives him a squeeze. "I miss making her pancakes," he murmurs. "I miss playing hooky from school to go to the museum. I miss hanging out at the park. I miss laser tag."

"You miss your partner in crime."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Rick drops Kate's hand and returns her hug, thankful for the warmth of her. He feels a chill in his bones, fears he'll start crying and embarrass himself further. Without a thought he blurts out, "What about you?"

Kate stiffens. Oh shit, he's fucked it up now. All his hard work, all _their_ hard work—This one stupid, insensitive question is going to ruin it. He's an idiot and an asshole and an even bigger asshole. _Can you be a bigger ass_—

"My mother," she whispers. He feels her huff against his chest. "After she died...I wanted children before. Thought about it, as a possibility. But after she died..." Rick waits, holding his breath, not daring to interrupt her. "Pregnancy. Having a baby. It's something you're supposed to share with your mom. And I didn't have her anymore. I guess I just—put it out of my mind." Kate barks out a harsh laugh. "It's amazing, I've never considered how far into my life her death reached. The hold it had on me." He takes a chance and hugs her to him a little closer. To his relief, she burrows deeper in next to him. She lightly snorts. "But the men in my life! Could I have had a baby with any of them?"

Rick grimaces. He imagines a toddler with Sorensen's tense square jaw. Josh leaving Kate and their child for deepest, darkest Peru. Oh, God. Royce. Hell, just the thought physically hurts. Maybe Royce's life would have turned out differently if he and Kate had..._No. Not going there._

And then it happens. That _thing_ that happens to him where his mouth and his heart conspire behind his brain's back and get him in trouble.

"What about the man in your life now?" _Fuck_. It's like he's purposely trying to ruin everything. He feels her stiffen again, but this time she sits up and stares at him, agast. The blanket falls away from her and she's there, gloriously naked, so beautiful despite the look of astonishment and bewilderment (_and anger? No, not anger_) marring that gorgeous face of hers. And then his body rebels against him again, only this time his brain's in on it, too, and he sees it clear as day—

_ sitting in this exact spot, fingers furiously pounding at the keyboard in his lap, almost done with this chapter, just have to finish this chase scene, and he hears the key in the lock and the door slamming shut and the keys hit the table with a clank and the thud of her bag hitting the floor and the rustle of her coat, and he says, "Beckett, I'm almost finished, give me a couple of minutes, how was work," and he hears more rustling and the tapping of his fingers and then she's in front of him and Christ, she's nude, and he looks at her in surprise and jeez, she looks exhausted but she's smiling, hell, she's _glowing_, and as he hits "save" and "save" again and closes his laptop she stretches out a hand to him and he looks to take it and he sees the soft swell of her belly, his baby inside, protected_

—and then he's instantly rock hard against her thigh. He's humilitated, feels his ears grow hot_, that's not—I'm not aroused by, ugh, you were sad thinking about your mom and your relationships and—I'm not—_

But he's struck mute. He watches in horror as her eyes widen. He blames himself. He's such a fuck-up sometimes. He wants to apologize, but then something completely unexpected happens. Something about Kate changes as he watches. It's like he's seeing a decision physically being made. If he could Tivo this moment, he would later be able to point to the exact _second_ she makes up her mind: her features harden with resolve, pupils dilate, eyes darken. She looks predatory. She throws off the blanket, exposing them both completely. And then with a singlemindedness and ferocity that startles him, she grabs hold of his swollen penis, swings her leg over his hips, and takes him deep inside.

"Oh, God, Beckett," he moans, throwing his head back. She's so tight. She's wordlessly grinding against him with slow, long strokes, holding onto his shoulders, riding him. On each long stroke up, her soft belly rubs against his and his horrible, treacherous mind screams, _baby, baby, baby, _and he can feel his cock twitch within her. Oh, God, how could he have not known this was what he wanted? How could this need have been buried so deep inside of him? Did he just never dare think it? Like never even jokingly asking a mall Santa for a pony, because the disappointment of knowing your parents could never afford to give you one makes it too painful to even think of it?

And when he opens his eyes, she's looking right at him. She's so focused, so _determined_—she's—it's like she's milking him, so tight, clenched so hard around him, she's— she's— she's _serious_ about this. _She _wants_ this. She's telling me she _wants_ this._

_And I want to give it to her._

Rick grabs her hips with his hands and stills her. For a second, he feels like a bastard again, the hurt and confusion all over her face. But he smiles at her, a small, knowing smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. He knows. He understands. He understands that she wants to take this from him. But he needs her to understand that he wants more than anything in the world to give it to her. He wants to give it to her, along with his heart, and his life.

He tries to convey this with his eyes. He feels like he's failing, so he gently thrusts his hips up to meet her. She gasps. He thrusts again. Kate gasps louder this time, but a small smile now plays on her lips. Rick grins, thrusts up again and again. He takes one hand from her hip and brings it down between them, touches her, feels her clench down hard around him. He rubs gently—once, twice—and she comes hard, grabbing at his head, pulling him to her, crushing her mouth against his. Her tongue forces its way inside his mouth and he takes it, his own meeting hers, his hands fisting in her hair, pulling her away so he can get at her neck. Without his hands to hold her back, she's bucking hard against him, grinding fast...he's so close, but he doesn't want this to end. He's never wanted anyone so badly in all his life, he can't think beyond the roar of his blood rushing through his veins, the drumming of (_baby baby baby_) his heart. He has one flash—a fleeting moment of clarity—when he dumbly thinks, _I wonder what Beckett is thinking about_, and like she can read his mind she's at his ear, purring, "Come for me, Castle," and he does. He explodes within her, pumping into her over and over.

She collapses on top of him, sticky with sweat, hair fanned out around them. He gingerly gropes behind her, finds the blanket and covers them with it, not wanting to leave his place inside her. He's running his hand up and down her back, he's giddy, he wants to fuck her again as soon as possible. An absurdity pops into this head. "I have planted my seed inside of you," he throatily informs her.

She surprises him by not running screaming for the hills. "I'm on birth control, Ned Stark, remember?" She laughs.

This sobers him. He gently grabs hold of her shoulders, pushes her upright so he can look into her eyes, study her. But she doesn't look angry. She looks...content. Sure of herself. In love. He realizes he's the nervous one.

"Beckett," he stammers, "Kate. This—it's still early. We haven't been together very long. We don't have to do this. We—"

"We keep our options open." Kate's smile grows until she is beaming. Rick feels his own smile stretch to mirror hers. He nods, she nods, and that's settled, then. And with that, Kate lays back down on his chest, head burrowing under his chin. She sighs and snuggles into place. He wraps his arms around her, cocooning her in his embrace.

Over her head, Rick watches as Lieutenant Chloe broadly gestures and silently throws orders around. The bridge is in chaos: explosions rock the ship, crew members dance side to side as the camera swings wildly around them. But there, standing in the middle of it all, unflappable, is Lieutenant Chloe, a phaser in one hand and the respect of all that is left of humanity in the other. Rick picks up the remote.

_Chloe would be a good girl's name_, he thinks, and turns the television off.


End file.
